


Need, Hunt, Take

by HostisHumaniGeneris



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Anal Sex, F/F, Fingerfucking, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Toys, Stalking, Wrestling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:00:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24832756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HostisHumaniGeneris/pseuds/HostisHumaniGeneris
Summary: It started with the job.  Taking down a cult leader in a 'party' he was running.  It ignited something in Trish, made hellfire run through her veins at the thought of Lady.  She knew the woman wouldn't reciprocate, but that's okay.  The chase was half the fun.
Relationships: Lady/Trish (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 29
Collections: Nonconathon 2020





	Need, Hunt, Take

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kameiko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kameiko/gifts).



“I can’t believe Morrison talked us into this.” Lady muttered.

Trish shot a sidelong glance at her. It might not’ve hit her at the time, but Lady looked good in a cloak, opera mask, and nothing else. “You could’ve bailed when you got the details of the job.”

The job was to infiltrate a gathering of devil worshippers and kill their leader. The dull red card with a generic invitation provided gave little information about what to expect, beyond “sin”. Morrison, however, had all the details.

The gathering they were infiltrating was less a cult or coven, more a ‘satanic orgy’. Very much rank amateurs who had no idea how demon summoning worked, mostly wealthy folk with more money than sense playing bad boy and girl, with some entertainment. It was probably more about the drugs and hookers, with a veneer of “satanism” to add a little edge to the sinning. 

But the client insisted there was the real deal there leading the cult, someone very dangerous using the posers as a source of funds—the only name they had was “The Teacher”. Good money to take out an actual threat. Trish was planning on going in ‘undercover’, solo.

And then Lady had to butt in, because she couldn’t miss a payday. When she learned the plan, she was aghast. Trish hit on her—not seriously at that point in time, just an attempt to annoy Lady into finding another job because she didn’t want to split the contract. Lady was stubborn, and of course, Trish trying to push her away made her double down. The argument got heated. Lady stormed off in a huff.

So now Trish and Lady were there, mingling and looking like they were ready to sin. Trish hammed it up, playing as a clueless observer _impressed_ by the depth and breath of people’s knowledge. Lady was a terrible actress, but nobody was paying enough attention to her face to notice the hot dark-haired woman was thoroughly unhappy to be there.

Trish was actually having fun. Disappointing as most humans were, she appreciated an opportunity to blow off some steam. Mingle a little until she was able to find the Teacher—per the description from the client had some very distinctive tattoos that’d require _close_ inspection… and until she found that man she could grab one of the participants and play pretend.

But which one?

There was an energy there, mistakeable. Something that only she could feel, or at least recognize as demonic. Power that sent a tremor up her spine. The rest of the partygoers might be affected, how _friendly_ everyone seemed to be could just be the fact this was a swingers' party for all intents and purposes, or it could be that little bit of that magical influence. As much as the vast majority of these people were posers, someone was weaving a spell there. Didn’t feel like a summoning, but it was unmistakable as she flitted around the party. There was definitely something magic here, and it excited her. Lady noticed the shift in her behavior, but was crowded by admirers.

While Lady and a few other entertainers drew the eyes of the “cultists”, Trish split from the main gathering of people out on the lawn of this swanky club. She was carefully scrutinizing all of the flesh on display—a tall man with a tattoo of an “angel with three red dots” over his entire back—a representation of Mundus—was the target. That was the plan, there were no alternate motives. The press of flesh on flesh as she wove through the crowd, the approving glances as they looked her over. She was on the hunt, and everything else was just a distraction.

She found herself staring at a dancer, painted red and gold. Script in what everyone else would consider meaningless gibberish along her long limbs, across her taut belly. Filthy labels that the more Trish looked at, the more her heart rate quickened. All the while that energy kept gnawing at her—it wasn’t painful or draining, it just made her _on edge_. Her skin felt on fire as she tried to continue the search and ignore the dancer.

Trish was up, next to her, writhing for the audience, drinking in their lust. She _was_ created to lure men... a man in particular, but some principles were universal... to their doom. It had been a long, long time since she'd gone out, looking for action, a very, desperately long time. She hadn't realized just how long it had been, how much she missed wandering eyes over her body. She wanted to be wanted, almost having to remind herself she still was on the job. She meant to leave when the other girl, the painted dancer, grabbed her. Touch was like fire.

The catcalls from the crowd as they pawed on another over made her burn. It took someone else doing something even more outrageous to make Trish reluctantly leave. 

She gritted her teeth. She needed to get this job done. First. Then she could spend the rest of the night amusing herself however she wanted. She weaved back through the crowd, skin on fire, trying to tell herself that she didn't want anyone here, fighting the urge to just let loose. She was very... selective. Usually. Normally, most of the skin on display at this party she could ignore. Most. But things had gone from wanting nobody in particular to needing the attention of anybody.

She found Lady in the foyer again, shoving her way through the crowd. Mismatched eyes met her, and she grinned—a weary grin that said she thought Trish had found the target and now it was time to do the job and get out. Trish didn't explain, maybe half-tried to stifle the edges of want knifing through her. Normally, she might've discretely looked at Lady when the woman wasn't paying attention, idly muse at how athletic and strong she was for a human. Now, with that demonic presence burrowing its way into her brain? No chance at all. The gasp Lady let out when Trish embraced her and pressed her lips against Lady’s was stifled by catcalls.

“What are you doing?” Lady hissed, silently. Trish was pretty sure only she heard.

“We’re ‘entertainment’.” She said, nipping at Lady’s ear, fumbling for an excuse. The look she gave just _shouted_ that they were on a job, and there was no time for that. Trish could work with that, she supposed. “Until we find the target, we’ve got to entertain them.”

She couldn't find the mark, so maybe if they put on a good show, they'd lure him out? Made sense in her brain.

Lady stiffened. Her body language was all wrong. She needed to look less like she wanted a fight. Relax and enjoy herself—or at least appear that way. “C’mon, we want to grab his attention to draw him out?”

Lady didn’t have much of a forum to object, now that they were definitely a turning heads. Trish could practically feel the struggle inside Lady as she played along, hands running up Trish’s back, grabbing fistfuls of blonde hair. 

The way she tugged on Trish’s hair as she leaned in conveyed her annoyance with the situation quite well. Trish could feel it, stronger now, that demonic presence, that burning, gnawing hunger. She and Lady were… competitive. And she wanted to just shove Lady down, pry her leg apart and make her scream.

But they were on the job.

The job could go to Hell, an increasingly larger portion of her told herself as her hands ran down Lady’s sides, she nipped at Lady’s lower lip. The way Lady let out a little yelp when Trish pinched her right buttock was adorable. 

Lady copping a feel of her boob was quite welcome, too. Right up until she pinched, hard and pushed Trish back a little. “Your three o’clock. I think that’s our guy.”

Trish wanted desperately to ignore that and keep going, but a hardening of Lady’s expression told her that she was not going to wait much longer. She looped an arm over Lady’s shoulder and turned, blowing a kiss at the crowd. She was a little disappointed that they seemed to have lost the attention of so many people—a few people kept watching them, but most had wandered off to drink, do something harder, or dispersed to get to groping one another.

Except for the tall man, of indeterminate age, staring at them. Angular features, muscular. A commanding presence. Lady called out, managing to hide her discomfort, asked “Like what you see?”

He simply motioned for them to come, and turned.

Lady practically sprinted after him. Away from Trish. An entirely new burn hit Trish—not want. Rage. Lady didn’t get to walk away. She pursued, reigning herself in. Business first, she’d pick up with Lady after.

The Man’s back had that very distinctive tattoo, a winged figure with three eyes. Trish asked a few questions, keeping up the clueless act, asking who that was a tattoo of. She didn’t get an answer as the man led her deeper into the house. Past naked flesh and moaning bodies. A few more men—all very strongly built, broke off from the festivities to follow them.

Lady got in on the act, too, asking where they were going. Saying that there was no group discount—Trish felt something _throb_ at that mental image. Into a library, and past a fake wall, down stone steps. As they descended, the Tattooed Man began talking, discussing how ‘special’ Lady and Trish were. The average participant in these activities was just flesh and blood, but he could tell that Lady and Trish were special. They definitely had a big part in the grand plan. 

Lady and Trish had already had uses in a madman’s plan before. 

When the stairway yielded to a dark room that Trish could smell dried blood in, and the man stepped by a stone altar, it was time. There was a flurry of violence. The Tattooed man had been reaching for a knife—Lady bounced his face off of the altar, retrieving the blade. Trish was in the middle of the goons when they moved to intervene.

This might’ve been the inner circle of people really in the know, the true believers, or just a bunch of sadists who liked hurting women and just happened on some Mundus imagery. The power Trish could taste in the back of her throat made her think they knew _something_ , but they obviously had no clue what she and Lady were. 

Funny how demon worshippers never had a clue what to happen when a real demon showed up. Or a demon huntress. Or both. The fight was fast, frantic, and over soon. She hadn't even broken a sweat, burned off any of that energy that was just begging for release. Trish was ready to pick up where they left off, but Lady shoved right past her. Obviously aggravated, Lady muttered “Job’s done. Have Morrison send me the check.”

The abruptness of Lady leaving was actually, literally stunning. Trish watched her, wiping blood off on the cloak, which she balled up and threw over her shoulder. She felt frozen, trying to keep down the desire to give chase, shove Lady over and make her finish what they had started. By the time she walked up the stairs, Lady was long gone. 

Trish spent the rest of the night _trying_ to work things off. Where earlier in the night, anybody would've done, after that all-to-brief taste of Lady, she wanted more. Everyone here was a poser, oblivious to the actual cultists in several pieces in their little lair. A muscular guy tried to brag of his gym routine, when all Trish could think of was the beautiful violence she'd watched Lady do. An older gentleman tried t impress her talking about far off places, when Lady had ventured to hell and back. She even found that painted dancer again, tried to get in the act again, until the woman whispered if Trish knew where the dark-haired chick went--they'd get a lot of attention, the three of them.

Trish stomped off, angry. 

* * *

Trish came, clenching her jaw shut and doing her best to muffle any sound. She pulled her fingers out of herself and pushed herself to her feet. She shouldn’t have let herself get distracted while on a stakeout, but it was getting hard to focus.

Lady was pissed off about what happened at the party.

And Trish had been patient for those weeks.

Despite every impulse being just to take what she wanted; she kept her hands to herself. Her anger had cooled, even if the desire hadn’t. She had only gotten a taste at the party, and needed more. She let the thrill build higher and higher; not entirely unlike the rush she got from combat. The sense of satisfaction sneaking in to Lady’s apartment, up those stairs that Lady was assuredly going up right now, through that cracked door.

She was practically _salivating_ over the prospect now.

After Qliphoth, a lot of things changed. Maybe just without Dante’s moderating presence—and that was a thought that still moved her to silent laughter—they were getting more… desperate? She was at least. Oh, she’d idly muse about Lady forever, it seemed like, but recently, Trish had found those thoughts more insistent. More urgent. Ever since the party she was burning. She was going to need to get release on this, and soon.

Lady was very, very sharp, so she always had to keep a distance, never got to know her quarry’s routine as much as she’d like. Surveilling her outside her apartment was easy, Lady was like clockwork, and Trish had her routine mapped out. Gym, target range, little bistro a block away from Devil May Cry. But once she was in for the night, she was in for the night. And what was a usual night home from the office like for Lady?

She knew Lady’s fridge was perennially understocked, except for a lot of oranges for some reason. Some dented and dinged pans in the cabinet, but just as much space in her kitchen was dedicated to bottles of liquor, empty and full. 

When would she step into the shower? How often did she peel off her clothes, lay in that bed, and play with that vibrator she kept in the one drawer, next to a sawed-off Mossberg? When would she lay her head down on that pillow, drift off?

That was part of the thrill, the risk of the unknown.

Even with the thrill, she should’ve been more careful. Instead of sitting against a rooftop AC unit, pants around her ankles. It was getting too distracting, whenever she had time to kill, her thoughts always turned to Lady… what else should she think about? That fascinating party, mixing business with pleasure. Deep inside Qliphoth, when they were stripped and bound in vines and Urizen was twisting them to his will? How about that time when Lady was out, Trish let herself into that apartment, laid on Lady’s bed, and used her vibrator to make herself cum? All good memories.

She was getting to distractible. She needed to wrap things up soon.

Tonight was the night.

Climbing down the fire escape of the building she'd been staking out Lady's apartment from, crossing the street, climbing up the rickety stairs, and picking the locks on the door to Lady's apartment, and then her bedroom, all of it was an increasingly powerful rush that got her blood burning. Not as much as at the party, but close. The first few times she’d broken in were intoxicating, too, but not to the same degree as now. With Lady inside. Trish felt her face flush, her heart race. Every second could be one that ended with a hail of gunfire coming through the door—Lady might not be asleep. Or she could be a super light sleeper. And Trish knew she kept a .45 under her pillows.

Cheap shampoo and well-oiled firearms. That’s what her pillows smelled like.

But the rush was so much stronger, made up for the risk. She was so, so close. When at last, the lock gave way and turned, Trish took things very slow. She had memorized how far she could open the door without it creaking. Tight squeeze, but bearable. She left the door open—the rest of the apartment was closed, and from her previous trips into this apartment complex, he knew shouting was a frequent enough occurrence she did not need to worry.

Trish stepped towards the bed carefully, catlike. Lady twitched and shifted in her sleep, and Trish held her breath. Her heart was pounding, as lady turned over onto her other side. Trish tried to focus on the important things. As important as the baggy t-shirt that was very loose over lady’s frame. Black boyshorts—she had a nice ass. More important was, from the angle, Trish couldn’t tell if the hands were above the pillow or below. That detail was important.

She muttered in her sleep. A little, soft moan. Trish let out a breath, slowly, as she watched those bare legs twitch, the blanket bunched up at the foot of the bed. Lady shifted, shrugged, rolled over. She laid splayed out, closed eyes looking at Trish. Trish looked back, biting her lip. The tee was huge on Lady, one shoulder exposed through the stretched-out neck hole. 

The next time Lady groaned, a cute little sound, it wasn’t unconscious. It _had_ to be an invitation.

Even if when Trish pounced, every muscle in Lady’s body tensed at once as she woke up, and she shouted a “What the fuck?!”

Had Lady woken up any earlier, Trish might’ve been able to bail. Maybe she would not have done so—so close, after all--but the option of explaining this as anything else would’ve been open. But pinning Lady to her bed, straddling her, yeah, they were past any sort of cover story. 

The hunt was at its end. Now all that left was to bring the quarry down.

Lady was _very_ tough for a human. But still, only human. Properly geared up, she could easily be a real pain to fight. Unarmed, surprised, and wearing nothing but an oversized tee and underwear? She was easy. Trish was stronger than her. Far better in a fistfight as well. She had the advantage of a long time planning this, while Lady had no clue this would be happening until half a second ago.

She had all of the advantages.

Still, things were keeping Trish from ending the fight quickly. Decisively. Demonic instincts _wanted_ to. But she had to reign that in. Lady was tougher than any other human she knew, but frailer than almost any demon. She wanted Lady, yes. She knew she’d have to hurt Lady, yes. But not too much.

And ending it too quickly wasn’t part of the plan, anyways.

She may not have wanted to hurt Lady too much, but she did want to fight her, unfair as it was. She wanted to wrestle and scrape around. A hand left Lady’s shoulder and reached for her shirt collar, giving the hunter enough time to reach behind her head, reflexively. That’s when Trish grabbed Lady’s wrist and pulled.

“Hm… not the kind of bedroom toy I was hoping for” Trish chided, squeezing Lady’s wrist hard, while using her other hand to pull the gun free. Lady used her free hand to try to bat the gun away, grab it, pull the trigger. Trish held it out of her reach before tossing it over her shoulder.

Lady bucked and thrashed. They rolled off the bed, Lady thrashing with all her strength. Trish wrapped her legs around Lady’s midsection, trapping her in guard even as she ended up on top of Trish. Trish took the time to grab the front of Lady’s shirt and yank. The fabric yielded easily and Lady let out another expletive. She didn’t try to cover up, instead opting to deck Trish straight in the face.

Trish smiled wide—she was hoping for this.

The punch smarted, but didn’t stop Trish from reaching up and pulling Lady closer. Lady clinched her tight with an arm hooked around her neck, free hand trapped between her and Lady. Palm against something soft and _sensitive_ , if the way Lady shrieked when she squeezed was any indication. Lady threw a series of jabs, her feet scrabbled against the floor as she half-stood, Trish still latched on.

“What the Hell as gotten into…” Lady’s exclamation was cut short when, by feel, Trish found a nipple. A little demonic power. Not much, barely more than a static electric shock. At least that’s what Trish assumed. Lady yelped and thrashed, obviously not planning anything. Which gave Trish the confidence to let her go.

Lady stumbled back, ending up on her ass, as Trish quickly got to her feet. The pause was momentary, but gave Trish her first real good look at Lady since the chaos started. That surprise on her face was priceless. Her tits were nice, too.

“What are you doing?!” Lady demanded, unconsciously rubbing her breast. Confusion, anger, and maybe, somewhere deep down, fear mixed together in her face and her words. “What the Hell is going on?”

“I think it’s obvious what I want.”

Lady sprang backwards as Trish charged forwards, turning towards the desk. Another gun lay atop it. The margin was _narrow_ , Lady had her fingers on metal right as Trish grasped her, pulled her away from the desk and dragged her. They spun and tumbled, Lady ended up on her knees as Trish ran a hand along her belly and down.

Lady froze in her struggles when Trish’s fingers dipped below the waistband of her underwear. Trish tutted to herself. Lady wasn’t shaved down there—must’ve been something specially for the undercover job. That’d change when Trish got her properly trained.

“Stop.” She hissed between clenched teeth. “Trish, st…”

Her protest was cut off by a yelp when Trish put just a little bit of effort, a little demonic energy. Not nearly enough to really hurt, just enough for a small shock. Right against Lady’s clit. The little cry was _perfect_ , as Lady arched her back against Trish. She hooked an arm around Lady’s neck and pulled, falling backward.

Lady was torn. Indecisive in a fight. That was a first, Trish noted—usually she moved instinctively, practiced. Trish really must’ve thrown her tonight. Lady’s hand’s shifted, trying to break the hold on her neck, trying to pry Trish’s hand from her pussy. She groaned when Trish’s pressed fingers inside—first her middle, then her ring finger. She bucked her hips, thrashed, threw elbows against Trish to no avail.

“S-stop!” Lady hissed through clenched teeth, struggling to not whine when Trish stroked something _sensitive_ inside her.

“You seem into this.” Trish chided. 

That was as far as she got before Lady managed to shift a little, lining up in just the right way to drive an elbow back against Trish. It knocked the wind out of her, weakening the grip she had on Lady’s neck long enough for her to roll and twist, trying to get away. 

She landed on her belly and scrambled, going for a glint of gunmetal in the dark room. 

Trish recovered and scrambled too, grabbing onto Lady’s ankle to drag her back. Lady twisted and kicked, hard, bare foot against Trish’s shoulder. She grunted, but kept a deathgrip on Lady’s ankle, torqueing it enough to cause Lady to cry out. Lady rolled on her back to relieve the pressure on her ankle, and Trish pinned her down, weight against Lady’s shoulders.

As Lady bridged her back and tried to get Trish off, the demoness dipped her fingers underneath Lady’s underwear again. She let out an inarticulate cry as Trish shoved inside again, investigating and observing all of Lady’s little reactions. She gave Lady credit for her poker face, audibly, right before she stroked Lady _just right_ to earn a moan.

“Get off of me!” Lady yelled.

“Why? You _like_ this.” Trish asked, pulling her hand free. She held up her fingers, glistening with Lady’s wetness. Lady kicked her legs and thrashed, getting a hand free. Trish shrugged and began fingering Lady again. As she kept fighting, Trish sighed.

Another bit of demonic power. Not enough to do damage. But more than a jolt. Just a continuous current. Right as she fingered Lady again, stroking her right at that spot again. Frantically, insistently. Lady wailed, arched her back, and bucked wildly, involuntarily as Trish kept fingerfucking her. Every muscle tensed, and it was almost a struggle to keep a tight hold on her as she wailed. So Trish let her go, letting Lady roll to her side, panting and muttering curses under her breath.

Trish didn’t give her any time to collect her thoughts, getting to her feet and dragging Lady across the room to her chest of drawers. Bottom drawer, next to the Mossberg—Trish reached for one, Lady reached for the other. A little electricity calmed her back down, long enough for Trish to retrieve the vibrator. She threw Lady back onto the bed, pinning her facefirst against her pillow. Unbuckling her belt, then kicking her way out of her boots and pants while keeping Lady from struggling out from underneath her was a challenge.

A fun one.

“Gotta say, Lady.” Trish said when she was finally nude from the waist down. “Most fun I’ve ever had on a date.”

Lady twisted, tried to swing har arm at Trish’s face. She blocked the attack, holding onto Lady’s arm. “Trish, whatever’s going on inside your head, you’ve got to fight it.”

Fight it?

Trish was having way too much fun fighting Lady.

She pinned Lady’s arm behind her back, then wrestled Lady’s other arm out from underneath her. Lady bucked and thrashed as Trish looped her belt around her wrists and tightened it, lashing her forearms together and tying them as securely as she could.

“I was going to bring handcuffs when I came for you, but was just impatient. Left them at home.” Trish said, shifting lady so she was on her back, arms pinned beneath both of their weights. It couldn’t have been comfortable, but it was secure. “When we wrap this up and go back to my place… well, lets just say I have more toys than you.”

She punctuated the point by pressing the on button on Lady’s vibrator. The head buzzed. Trish smiled and added. “You do have good taste, though.”

“I’m warning you…” Lady began, and trailed off when Trish leaned in close, nipping at her skin. She set the vibrator, still on, back down, and started playing with Lady in earnest. She tried bucking and thrashing as Trish licked at her jugular while groping her tits, went still when Trish went lower, teeth grazing her nipples, jackknifed her body when Trish kissed her down her belly. 

When she hooked her fingers in the waistband of Lady’s underwear and began pulling them down, Trish fully expected Lady to try to kick her in the face, and was not disappointed. She deflected the attempt, pried Lady’s legs apart, and leaned in close. 

When Trish picked up Lady’s vibrator again, she asked “Mind telling me what your favorite speed is on this?”

“Fuck you.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

She pressed the head of the vibrator against Lady, angling it as Lady tried to wriggle out from underneath her, or get herself away from the stimulation, or whatever. She pushed it against Lady’s clit, and smiled as Lady closed her eyes and worked her jaw, unable to keep an adorable whine from raising out of her throat. 

Lady’s struggles became less coordinated as Trish pushed her fingers inside, still toying her with the vibrator. She dug her heels into the mattress, tried roll over but couldn’t, arched her back. Trish kept fingering her. She just flailed and whined as Trish upped the speed of the vibrator, pushing it against Lady while curling her fingers inside.

Lady howled, thrashed, and kicked in ways that were completely involuntary. Trish just doubled down on her motions, continuing to play with Lady as she was wracked with an orgasm, trying to keep the good times going until Lady was just twitching, boneless, and panting _._

Trish licked her fingers after pulling them out.

“You know, Lady…” Trish said, gently slapping Lady across the face to grab her attention. “…I think you’re being selfish. You came twice and so far, I haven’t.”

Getting herself on the rooftop didn’t count.

“Of course, with your hands tied up like this, I dunno _how_ you could return the favor.” She punctuated the point by running fingers, still slick, against Lady’s lips.

“I will fucking bite you!” Lady spat back.

Trish let out a long-suffering sigh. “See? Selfish. I was getting tired of using your toys, but I guess I’ve got to make do for today.”

She wasn’t sure Lady even got the implication as Trish shifted around. It was a little awkward, lining their hips up right; hooking Lady’s legs of her shoulders, looping her right arm around Lady’s leg to hold the vibrator in place right between them. Flesh-to-vibrator-to-flesh.

A little awkward, but a hell of a lot of fun, especially when she pushed the vibrator to its maximum setting. Damn thing nearly leapt out of her hands—somehow she almost always forgot how much kick it had. Lady’s attempts to struggle out and Trish’s deliberate rocking of her hips, back and forth seemed to match the other. Lady shook her head and groaned, while Trish complimented her—she’d had plenty of fun with Lady’s toys in her bed before, but like _this_?

Lady was a keeper.

Lady’s struggles failed to extricate her, but the constant shifting, little motion Trish had to make s to reposition herself and keep the vibrator on both of them—it required a lot of attention that was constantly being broken when something _just right_ happened and Trish let out a whine of her own.

All those nights chasing Lady. Or planning this. Or just sitting at home alone. Chasing that burning feeling from the cult meeting, that want. She frantically wanted _this_. 

And here, now? Lady not able to leave in the middle of things? Their bodies pressed against each other, groans and whines escaping both of them and mixing together? It was wonderful. 

When Trish came, teeth chattering, toes curling, eyes rolling back, it practically was excrutiating how intense it was. She had no clue where her hands were as wave after wave racked her, moaning and screaming into Lady’s neck.

She came to her senses panting heavily. Lady was just as out of breath. Trish shakily pushed herself to her knees, tousling Lady’s hair. The demon huntress stared with a dazed expression that, once she noticed Trish was staring at her, hardened into rage. “Get off of me.”

“The night’s still young, Lady.”

* * *

Lady’s chest heaved and back stiffened at every little sound. Blindfolded, gagged, cuffs on her wrists kept her arms trapped behind her back, legs spread by a pole that was lashed to her ankles, red marks and script running up and down her body; she was helpless, and she knew it. Trish just stood appreciating her. Trish had actually lost track of the time--ignoring a lot of things to focus on her ongoing project, taming Lady. Doing the best to keep her uncomfortable, off-balance, trapped, but without hurting her too much. When tonight had begun, Lady had risen to a seated position when she heard the door open, braced herself for a fresh round of Trish’s affections.

It was sheer torture, watching and waiting. Seeing Lady pant, try to fight her way out of the restraints, trying to face Trish t the best of her ability. She slowly walked over, doing everything to minimize noise, circling around to behind Lady. When it became unbearable, when Trish couldn’t stand it anymore, she walked over to Lady and shoved her down, planting her bare foot on Lady’s chest. A huntress over her trophy. 

She bit her lip as Lady helplessly tried to break free, shifting to take a knee next. She groped Lady’s breasts, pinched her nipples, and leaned in close and nipped at Lady’s neck, biting down when Lady screamed against the gag. “If you’d just behave yourself, I wouldn’t have to punish you like this.”

Lady bucked and thrashed, when Trish slid her fingers down beneath Lady’s legs, carefully tracing her fingers down the red and gold letters she’d painted on the skin. Hellish patterns for obedience and defiance. When Lady let out a small, involuntary whimper, Trish let Lady go and backed away, noticing the tremor in Lady’s body as she tried to close her legs.

Trish’s blood was boiling, hellfire pumping through her veins. Lady kept pushing back against her, and she loved it. Lady wasn’t rolling over, and that meant she had to keep up the pressure. Maybe it was just her devilish nature. Whatever the reason, the power she had over Lady was addictive—and Lady’s resistance making her have to _exercise_ that power made it doubly so.

She thought taking Lady would satisfy her, but it just made her want to do more and more to her.

Lady shuddered at every little rustling noise that Trish made when she was selecting her toys. A long, thick strap-on would do well. Her breast heaved; words known only to hell trembled as Lady struggled in ways that made Trish’s mouth water. Lady, utterly helplessly bound was wonderful. She squirmed against a wall, trying to force herself to a sitting position. She cinched the straps of the harness tight and closed in.

“-ck you!” Lady swore when Trish pulled the gag free, before drawing in a massive breath. Trish grabbed a fistful of her hair and drove her hips forward. Lady coughed and tried to pull away, absolutely failing to do so. She tensed as Trish shoved in deeper, pulling Lady in closer at the same time.

She stared down, into the black, featureless blindfold as Lady coughed and gagged against the dildo. She couldn’t resist pulling it up , showing Lady’s mismatched, watering eyes. She glared upwards as she choked, that spark of defiance all the excuse Trish needed to pull out and shove back in. “If you aren’t going to say nice things, I don’t see why I should let you say anything.”

Lady gagged in reply.

She fucked Lady’s face hard and deep, biting her lip. She kept at it, as lady continued to gurgle, face turning red, eyes struggling to stay open. When she yanked out and stepped away, Lady pitched forward, sucking in air desperately.

Trish circled around, looking at the script along Lady’s back. Fingers trailed down Lady’s spine, all the way down to that glinting metal plug that Trish had to fight to shove inside lady’s ass. Placing her left hand on Lady’s buttock, she pulled on the base of the plug with right. Trish pulled and twisted the metal plug until the toy popped out.

Trish waited until Lady had caught her breath, came back to her senses before she pinched her. Making her hiss and yelp. Got her attention. Trish resisted the urge to make a comment as she lined up with Lady’s ass, tip of the dildo prodding her. For her part, Lady tensed up and braced herself. She’d been stretched by the plug, so Trish didn’t have too much difficulty driving all the way in.

She got the feeling Lady might not’ve been entirely comfortable with it, the way she yelled and threatened. Trish tutted, reaching around and finding Lady’s pussy again. “You’re doing great, Lady.”

She did want to hurt Lady, push her to her limits. Teach her who was in charge. But she in the end, she also wanted Lady to cum, beg for more. She fingered lady while fucking her roughly, biting at her neck and whispering insults and compliments. Lady just groaned and grunted against her thrusts.

The taste of Lady’s skin.

The feel of Lady’s body against hers.

The slickness of Lady against her fingers.

Those wonderful little whines Lady let out.

She was getting good at reading when Lady was about to cum, now. Fingers knuckle-deep inside Lady, hips against Lady’s, hearing all those little wails and feeling every little reaction, she kept pushing Lady on, over and over. Right up to the edge. 

And then stopped.

Lady didn’t react, didn’t beg, didn’t cry out. When Trish stopped fucking and fingering her, she stopped reacting. She just twisted her head and glared at Trish out the corner of a red eye.

Trish waited, giving Lady a little time to cool off. Enough to get her off that edge.

And then she started again, slamming the strapon into Lady’s ass, fondling and thrusting inside her with her fingers. Nipping at her neck. Again, and again, right to the edge. The cycle repeated, Trish slowing down or stopping right when Lady needed a slight shove to cum.

And she still didn’t beg for it.

It was maddening. Trish was out of patience. “C’mon, Lady. I know you’re close. Just ask.”

“I don’t want anything from you.” The voice was flat. She managed to stifle the desperation she obviously felt, didn’t even have that endearing combatativeness. Just a simple statement of fact.

 _I don’t want anything from you_.

That was a fucking lie, and Lady knew it. Trish made her scream and cry and cum over and over and over. This little human was _hers_. Ever since that party, want had overridden so much of Trish’s opinion of the woman—there was no way it couldn’t be mutual.

She had a fistful of Lady’s hair, shoving her face in the floor, swearing and fucking her roughly. Lady grunted and cried out, bound hands and legs thrashing as much as they could. Their voices echoed and mingled, and it didn’t stop until Lady muttered a please.

Trish took a deep breath.

Lady was trying to get a rise out of her. She couldn’t let her win like this. Couldn’t. Taking a deep breath, she leaned in close, kissing the back of Lady’s neck. She began to finger her again, moving gently. “I wouldn’t be as rough on you if you’d stop trying to piss me off.”

Part of her would miss that excuse.

She was tempted to try to make Lady beg, again, but she was being stubborn tonight. Didn’t want to lose her head again. So she just kept it up, hearing those reassuring little moans that Lady was desperate to stifle. 

This was how things were supposed to be.

Lady came with a whine, and Trish pulled out almost immediately. She unhooked the strapon, tossed it aside, and lifted Lady to a sitting position. They still weren’t at the point where making Lady eat her felt like a safe idea. But as Trish stroked herself with fingers that had been in Lady seconds earlier, she did throw out hints. She bet Lady was good with her tongue. Lady, limply leaning against Trish, inches away from her fingers, kept quiet, looking to the side until Trish sharply demanded her attention.

She still had a lot of work to do. A lot of conditioning. But Lady, Lady was getting obedient when Trish got rough. They just needed to keep at it. Soon. Trish wasn’t even really paying attention to the bound woman at her feet, instead focused on the _thought_ of that woman. On the future. When that fire, that combativeness wasn’t gone, just… in control. Only present when Trish wanted a challenge, something to push against. She screamed and dropped to her knees, focusing on how great it would be when Lady was properly trained.

Lady didn’t do much when Trish coiled her arms around her neck, pressed her lips against Lady’s, muttered that they’d have to do this again soon. 

**Author's Note:**

> To Kameiko, I hope this was alright for you--I know you had "Something makes Trish noncon Lady " and provided some very fun tags, but otherwise left your request very open. I went with the "something" being some intangible magical presence, but there's so many ways to handle the "something". Please let me know if you would've preferred a different take on this--I had fun writing this and I hope you have as much fun reading it.


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